Another Man Will (8 page)

C
HAPTER
8

Yvette

A
fter a great mini vacation with my girls, it was time to get back to the job. I was already exhausted by the thought of all the work I'd left. Payroll had to be done by the end of the day, a stack of invoices needed to be paid, and there were over a dozen voice mail messages. The majority were from Edwin Mitchell. He had been out on disability for months and was trying to get his doctor to sign off on another three months. If he was able to, that was fine; if not, I couldn't assist him with anything else. He would just have to work for a check like the rest of us.

It was going to be a crazy day. I could feel it. I'd been in my office only a half hour, but it was already time for a Dunkin' Donuts run. My caffeine fix was very necessary to accomplish anything. I picked up my bag and walked toward the showroom, and I bumped into Gene, who needed my assistance.

“Hi, Miss McKnight.”

“Hey. What's going on, Gene?”

“My wife had the baby over the weekend. A little girl, eight pounds, eleven ounces.”

“Wow! That's a big baby.”

“Yeah, she is, but what I wanted to tell you is that I called the insurance company to add her, and they said she is not automatically covered or something.”

“No, she should be. The hospital should have called the insurance company directly, not you. But just write down all her information, and I will contact them for you. I'll handle it when I get back.”

“Thanks, Miss McKnight.”

“No problem. Tell your wife I said, ‘Congratulations.' ” Just as I completed my conversation with Gene, I noticed my boss, Frank, walking toward me.

“I need to see you,” he said very sternly.

“Okay, no problem. Let me grab my notepad, Frank. Also, did you get the message I left you last week about the trucks needing to be serviced?”

“I did. I'll see you in my office.”

My coffee run was going to have to wait. I ran back to my office, dropped my purse, grabbed my notepad, and walked to Frank's big back office.

Frank immediately closed the door and went to his desk. He sat down, took off his glasses, and began rubbing the top of his forehead. He then began looking at me very seriously.

“Miss McKnight, I was trying to reach you a few times after our last conversation.”

“You were? I didn't get it; my phone must have been out of range. It's been acting up lately.”

“Understandable, but the main reason I wanted to speak with you is because . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. Then he said, “I received some really disturbing information.”

“Disturbing information?” I repeated back to him.

I was lost when he said, “Ms. McKnight, you know my father started this company with nothing. He was an immigrant, and he believed in hard work and honesty.”

“Of course.”

“Well, quite honestly, I cannot let you or anyone else destroy this company. My father is very fond of you, and I think he was in tears when I told him about the information I'd received.”

What the hell was he talking about?
What information?
I had to find out what the hell he was talking about, and I needed him to get to the point.

And then he continued, his eyes going back and forth. “Miss McKnight, last week I received several voice messages from an anonymous male saying there were criminals and drug addicts working for my company. Then the message also mentioned possible fraud, overtime abuse, and discrepancies in the payroll. Are you aware of any of this?”

“No, definitely not,” I said as I shook my head no.

“Do you know if someone is on drugs or is a thief? If they steal from us or harm one of our loyal customers, we could lose everything.” I was not following what Frank was saying at all. “As I said before, we tried to reach you to try to get clarity on this matter. We weren't able to reach you, so I reviewed the payroll records, and unfortunately, I found discrepancies.”

“I'm sure whatever the discrepancies were, they were mistakes. I work long hours alone. It is quite possible I made a few mistakes here and there.”

“There were numerous errors, as well as several employees who do not have a drug test or background checks on file. There is no possible way that these are honest mistakes, Ms. McKnight. Unfortunately, we are going to have to let you go.”

“Let me go?”

“And at this time we are not going to take legal action against you. My father doesn't want to see you in jail. He really likes you.”

I was unsure of what to do or say. Anything I could think to say would probably imply guilt. I knew exactly what he was talking about now; I was guilty of hooking a few guys up on different occasions when they ran out of vacation time. I hadn't been stealing, per se, or taking cash, embezzling hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I was guilty of looking the other way. A few of the guys had paid me to look past their dirty urine test results. And one of the drivers, Demetrius, had a record, but it was for vandalism—just for writing on a wall. I'd overlooked it. So what? He was eighteen when it happened and needed a job and had kids to feed.

“I think you are making a mistake, Frank, but okay.” I got up out of my seat and began walking toward the door.

“This is effective immediately. If you can retrieve your stuff out of the office and make this as simple as possible, I would appreciate it.”

I didn't say anything else. I was in total shock. Nine years of hard work for Zinoloi Rugs, Carpets, and Exotic Furniture, and now I was carrying my boxes to the car. Hector walked over to take a box from me.

“What's going on? Where are you going?” he asked.

“I was just fired.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Frank just called me into his office, said he received a message or something that I was committing payroll fraud and hiring criminals. I don't know what's going on. This is crazy. Did you hear anything?”

“No, not at all, but your husband called me this weekend. Or at least I think it was your ex-husband.”

I stopped and my heart fell to my feet.

“What!”

“Yeah, I kept calling you, but your voice mail kept coming on. I left you messages. He called me, asking me all these questions. First he called and was, like, ‘Who this?' so I said, ‘This is Hector. Who is this?' He said, ‘You know Yvette?' I asked why, and, anyway, we started getting into it. So then he said, ‘Was you with my wife?' and I said, ‘Yeah,' because I know it doesn't matter anymore. Y'all are divorced and all.”

“Oh, my God.” I felt my stomach turning and my entire head began to instantly throb. “Hector, I always told you, if anyone ever called your phone and asked about me to hang up. I can't believe you gave up information so easily. Why did you tell him anything?”

Hector saw that I was panicking and began trying to calm me down. “What's wrong? He's not your husband anymore.”

I couldn't say anything else. I told Hector I would call him later. All I could think was, damn, all this time Phil knew I cheated, but he never knew who YB was, and now he did. So now I knew who the anonymous male was that had called my job. Phil knew that I didn't drug test everyone and that I had overlooked a record or two. We would always discuss how the “system” made it hard for anyone who had ever made a mistake to redeem themselves. We both agreed that it wasn't right and that some people deserved a second chance. He also knew that I would give myself overtime when I worked really hard and I didn't take lunch.

I wanted to get a few blocks away from my job before I called Phil and began screaming and cussing his ass out. I drove down the street, then pulled over and called him. He didn't answer. I called back several times. No answer. I was so disgusted and angry that he would call my job and tell on me that my hands were shaking. Since I couldn't reach him, I dialed Geneva. She answered. I didn't let her get a hello out before I cried, “Geneva, I don't know what the hell just happened. I can't believe this shit. I really can't believe it.”

“You okay? What's wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Oh, my God, Phil left an anonymous tip on my job's answering machine, saying that I wasn't doing background checks or drug testing.”

“What?”

“Yes, then he also said I was hooking people and myself up with overtime.”

“You are lying.”

“I wish I was. This doesn't make any sense. Girl, they fired me. I can't believe he took the time to call my job. We are divorced now. Why can't he just leave me alone?”

“I'm so sorry to hear this. I can't be hearing you right. You're telling me this bitch-ass man called your job and had you fired?”

“Yes, he did,” I sighed. “Isn't this so fucked up? He somehow got Hector's number and called him, and Hector told him everything, and now he is mad.”

“Oh, my God, this is crazy. I get off of work in an hour. I'll tell Eric to pick up the kids. What do you want to do to him?”

“I'm so ready to go and kill him, but I can't, because we are going to the settlement this week. But after I get my check in my hand, oh, it's on.”

“Yeah, get your money, and then we are going to get his ass.”

“Let me call the Realtor right now. I'll call you back.”

I dialed the Realtor. “Hi, Ms. Womack. This is Mrs. McKnight.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. McKnight what can I do for you?”

“I was calling to see what day this week we are going to the settlement.”

“Oh, Mrs. McKnight. Uh, yeah, you know we went to the settlement last week. I know you said you were going to come with your ex-husband, but he said you weren't feeling well, and everything was in his name, so your presence wasn't really necessary. I'm assuming you guys will handle the rest. You don't need me for anything, do you?”

“Yes, of course we will handle it.” I got this sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew what it was already, but I was trying not to admit it, because if I did, I wouldn't know what I was going to do. I pulled over to the side of the street, prayed, and called Phil again. Whatever he said he was going to do would determine whether he was a living or a dead man walking. I held my composure as best I could. There wasn't a trace of rudeness in my voice.

“Yeah, Vette? Why do you keep calling my phone?”

“Oh, Phil, I wanted to see when we could meet up.”

“We are meeting for what?” Just by the way he was speaking to me, I wanted to GPS his location and kick him in his face. He was sitting on the phone, pretending he hadn't called my job or already gone to the settlement without me.

“We are meeting so I can get my check. You went to the settlement last week, and I'm sure the check has cleared by now. So where and when do you want to meet?”

He didn't answer my question. Instead he said rudely, “Hold on for a minute.” Then he came back to the phone and said, “Yeah, Yvette, my check did clear and I do have my money from the sale of my house. You don't have a check or any money.”

“What? Phil, we both paid for the house. That house was just as much mine as it was yours.”

He began laughing and yelled, “I don't owe you anything. I only verbally agreed to give you half, so technically I don't have to give you shit.”

I didn't know how to respond. Phil had just confirmed that he didn't plan to give me my money. Before I could stop myself, I said, “Don't talk that technical shit with me. I put a down payment on that house and invested in all those repairs for the kitchen too.”

“Do you have the receipts? You are not getting anything from me. Go get it from that dude, your YB. You know the one you were fucking at your job. My name is on the house. I don't owe you anything. And I don't know what to tell you. Maybe next time you get married, don't cheat and try to fuck over your husband.”

“
I
fucked
you
over! You had an affair on me. And you know what? It doesn't even matter anymore, because we are not together. We are divorced.”

“You're motherfucking right I divorced your cheating ass.”

“Phil,
you
divorced
me?
Did you forget about the ignorant young chick that came to my house and told me she was pregnant by you?” I screamed.

His only response to that was to hang up. I kept calling him back, but he kept sending me to his voice mail. That was when it all set in and I realized Phillip was trying to ruin my life. I was crying and crying, and then I realized I had to withdraw all the money out of our joint account. I called our bank, and there was only fifteen hundred left in there. I immediately drove to the bank and withdrew every dollar. There was no way Phil could get away with what he was doing to me. I was trying to stay calm and think rationally, but I just couldn't.

I called Phil back. As soon as he answered, I screamed, “Listen, Phil, it is bad enough you got me fired from my job. Now you are trying to take my money. You think I'm going to let this happen? You're going to give me my goddamn money, or you're going to have a problem.”

“Yvette, I don't have any money that belongs to you, and I have nothing else to say. Stop calling my phone.”

He hung up on me and I stood motionless outside the bank, looking at the phone, lost. Phillip McKnight had gone crazy, and someone had to talk to him before I murdered him. I called my dad. I didn't want to upset him, but he had to do something. As the phone rang and rang I began to break down. Once my dad finally answered I was hyperventilating.

“Dad . . . Dad . . . Dad.”